


Sole Survivor

by TheSaturnianWildcat



Series: Partners-In-Crime [1]
Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Origin Story, and yet im pretty proud of it, inspiration came and beat me over the head with this at 4am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 15:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11084949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSaturnianWildcat/pseuds/TheSaturnianWildcat
Summary: Flug must have had it too easy and life decided it was time to knock him out of the sky. Quite literally.





	Sole Survivor

**Author's Note:**

> I WAS going to write a prequel to Compromises and tell what happened to make Black Hat more gentle towards Flug but...
> 
> Inspiration had other ideas.

Dr. Flug Slys had his life planned out for him. Everything was supposed to go well. He was supposed to attend an award ceremony in a few days, something about the Betterment of Humanity since he had built a radar that predicted weather patterns at an alarming accuracy. He had gotten past his jitters to get on the plane, pulling a paper bag over his head. Two eye holes were cut out of it where a pair of goggles could be worn. It was a comfort object, one he had employed many a time since he was little. Of course, he wasn't wearing the goggles. Probably a good thing, considering what was to come.  
  
But let's rewind, shall we? Flug Slys never foresaw his future the way it turned out, neither how it looked like it would when he boarded that plane or how it did in the end. He was born in the country to two very loving parents. He inherited their ginger hair and keen green eyes, but his father would brag Flug's always looked keener than the average person. He didn't inherit the family name. Slys wasn't even his family name nor was Flug his real name. But in certain businesses and scenarios, one didn't want to parade around with their birth name.  
  


Despite his country upbringing, invention was in his blood, his very DNA. His mother still loved to recount how, at age six, Flug had dismantled a broken microwave and put it back together so it would work once more. Flug's motivation was his parents dismay at having to buy a new one, not any illusions of grandeur. 

High school was rough for the socially anxious teenage but he still made it out with flying colors. He would have been valedictorian but Flug sabotaged himself so he'd be the 3rd of his class. Neither a valedictorian or a salutatorian speech sounded like something he was able to do. And he didn't like English all that much, so it worked out.

College was easy too. He skated through easily to the winner's circle and got his doctorate. And now here he was, to be realized on the national stage as someone who had humanity's best interests at heart. Flug would look back and laugh. How ridiculous, considering how it turned out. 

He was awoken from his half-nap with the sound of blaring alarms. His eyes shot open just in time for the intercom to turn on. The pilot said in a wavering voice, "It appears our engines are not working. Please stay calm."

Another intercom came on, explaining how to put an oxygen mask. Flug barely heard it as he fumbled with said oxygen mask, eventually getting onto his face and taking a deep breath. He hoped it would quell his fears but it didn't. They were losing altitude fast, too fast. Flug glanced out the window, just in time to see them rush headlong into a black building.

Everything hurt.

Everything hurt _so_ much.

Flug cracked his eyes open to find himself thrown to the floor like an abandoned marionette. The plane was dim, the only light was the flashing emergency lights, bathing the surroundings in eerie red light. There were thrown bodies everywhere, some even with limbs in positions Flug knew they shouldn't naturally be in. He wondered-no he hoped, that they were in a similar position as him. Alive but in too much pain to move.

He took a moment to survey his condition. His right hand curled into his chest. He tried the same with his left but it refused to move. His face stung and he could feel blood dripping down it. He glanced to his right, seeing shards of black material scattered in the wall opposite him. Flug wasn't particularly religious but he thanked whatever deity watching over him that he could still see. 

_Tap, tap, tap._

A rhythmic tapping came from the front of the plane, sounding like shoes. A dark figure came into view, confirming his suspicions. Flug was dying and here was Death, come to reap him.

"Death" picked its way over the bodies, pausing to nudge them with a cane. There was no response from any of them. It finally made its way to Flug, jabbing him in the side with its cane. Flug made a soft pained noise, attempting to curl into himself away from it. The dark figure chuckled.

Flug tried to ignore that as he mumbled, "Am I dying?"

The figure clicked its tongue then asked in response, "Depends. Do you want to be dying?"

Flug mulled over the question for a moment. "No," he said softly.

The figure grinned wide, its array of shark teeth in full view. It laughed darkly, "Good choice. I can fix that."

"Are you Death? Or the devil?", Flug asked.

The figure somehow grinned wider and laughed as if the questions were merely jokes. Once it stopped laughing, it purred, "No and no. You flatter me, however. That'll get you in my good favor."

Flug nodded sluggishly. He was too tired to ask anymore. He just wanted to sleep until the pain ebbed away. He could barely feel the arms that so gently lifted him off the ground. But...he had one more question to ask before he let himself slip into sweet unconsciousness, "What do I call you?"

The dark figure grinned as it carried the sole survivor of the plane crash, its new prize, away into his home. And soon to be the doctor's too. It crooned softly, as if speaking to a lover, "Black Hat."


End file.
